


Shower me

by anastasiapullingteeth



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 12:56:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2349194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastasiapullingteeth/pseuds/anastasiapullingteeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: walked in on you in the shower college au</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shower me

**Author's Note:**

> A little something for [Sami](http://lifeofthewickedwitch.tumblr.com/), bc she’s always so supportive ♥.

Feuilly sighs exasperated for the fourth time in twenty minutes. He’s been waiting for one of the stalls to be vacant and is taking way too long. He could go back to the dormitories and wait there, but is afraid he misses his turn as it tends to happen in the morning; he’d thought that a midnight bath would be faster but he was wrong, oh so wrong. He taps his foot against the white tiles and glares at the nearest stall, trying to make the occupant uncomfortable enough to quicken the washing of his hair.

It seems to work and a couple of minutes later, the brown-haired guy steps out the shower, throwing an annoyed grunt in Feuilly’s general direction. He doesn’t care, of course, he’s finally under the warm spray of the shower, letting the water to run down his tired back, loosening the knots where the muscles suffer from his bad habit of reading with his neck completely bend over during insanely long periods of time.

He’s completely relaxed when the curtain’s rings slide along the tube with a metallic sound, excessively loud in such late hours. He turns around with a frown, ready to kill whoever dare to disturb him, just to stare at the deep eyes of a man standing next to the open curtain. The first thing Feuilly notices about him is that he’s tall. Awfully tall. Broad shoulders framing impressive pecs covered in tattoos and short black hair ruffled.

The man is frowning as well, his eyes moving slowly over Feuilly’s freckled body; he cocks an eyebrow when said eyes reach Feuilly’s crotch and it’s there where the redhead remembers he’s naked. They’re both naked, actually, but at least he has the decency of not checking out the other guy… too much, that is. Feuilly instinctively covers his lower half and turns around, peering over his shoulder; his cheeks turn a bright shade of red when he sees the other man smirking, completely unashamed of leering at a stranger’s ass.

"Do you mind?" he scolds, trying to ignore the heat of his face; he’s sure he’d never blushed harder in his entire life.

"No, not really. Got a pretty nice view from here. But, maybe if you turn around again…" he says, making little circles with his index finger.

Feuilly was wrong again. The red on his face is now covering his neck and ears, matching the tone of his hair. He rests his forehead against the wall and hisses “Get out of here.” The hot water is still on, barely soaking his back since he’s practically melted with the cold surface, leaving as much space between the intruder and him as possible.

"Okay, freckles. I’m leaving. Nice ass, by the way."

"Fuck off!" he yells, closing his eyes tightly.

He hears a chuckle behind him, followed by the curtain’s rings on the tube and when he looks behind him, he’s alone once again.

 

The next day, when Feuilly’s leaving the showers after his bath, he sees the stranger again. He’s just getting into the bathroom, carrying his things in one thick arm. He winks at him as soon as their eyes cross and Feuilly has to mentally force himself to not pay any attention to the towel riding low on the stranger’s hips, though he sort of notices he has more tattoos down there. He thinks. Not really sure about it.

"Good night, freckles" he says, smiling broadly; Feuilly rolls his eyes.

 

***

 

Encounters with the shower stranger become a thing of a daily basis. Sometimes he’s arriving when Feuilly is leaving, some others he’s just a few minutes late than him; in a couple of rare occasions, he’s already there before the redhead. Thankfully, he never tries to invade his privacy again. On the second week, he learns the stranger’s name is Bahorel. He’s for some inexplicable reason studying to be a lawyer and is currently not dating anyone.

“In case you were wondering,” he insists, the playful tone evident in his voice.

"I’ll keep it in mind," Feuilly snorts, like it wasn’t weird enough to be talking about those things with a naked guy from a stall to the other.

"Because," he continues, stepping out of the shower and joining Feuilly in the narrow hallway. "You’re free, right?"

"Good night, Bahorel" he smiles, going back to his room between a muffled "ah, dammit," from Bahorel.

He smiles wider.

 

***

 

They only talk on the shower during midnight baths, which is odd to say the slightest, but they manage to create a bond between them. The bathroom is now always empty when they’re there, so it’s really surprising for the redhead to see it crowded when he walks in on a Thursday night. “Great…” he whispers, leaning on the wall and crossing his arms over his chest, ready to wait until someone walks out.

One of the curtains slides open and Bahorel peeks into the hallway. He smiles when he sees him and beckons him to approach him with a hand. Feuilly looks around and walks up to the big man.

"You’re late. I had to practically fight a guy for this place, I hope you’re grateful."

"I am, you saved my life." Bahorel lets him in but doesn’t walk out of the stall. "You’re… You’d finished yet? I can wait outside if you…" he trails off.

Bahorel opens his eyes wider, as if suddenly remembering he’s in this plane of existence. “Yes, yeah, I’m done… So see you tomorrow I guess.”

"Sure. Thanks again."

"No problemo." He winks and goes out of the stall.

It takes a few seconds for Feuilly to star washing his body.

 

***

 

Feuilly isn’t sure why he’s doing this, but he kind of doesn’t care at the moment. He’s in the bathroom again, worrying at his bottom lip and straining his neck over the stall to look at the door. Bahorel is late. Like, really late. Feuilly has being waiting for about an hour and there’s no sign of him. He shouldn’t be worried, though, it’s stupid, but he can’t help it; it’s the first time something like this happens.

He hears the door being open and he practically jumps on his tiptoes to take a better look. Bahorel’s there, yawning and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. Feuilly walks out of the shower, frowning deeply. “Are you okay?” he breathes.

"Hey." Bahorel smiles sheepishly. "I thought you’d be gone by now…"

"Why? Are you hiding from me?"

"No, I… I just thought that… you wouldn’t wait for me… Uhm."

From up close, Feuilly sees Bahorel lip is split and his nose and cheek bone sport greenish bruises that weren’t there the night before. “What happened to you?” he demands, and Bahorel smiles, wincing at the pain from his injured lip.

"Why? Are you worried now?"

"Of course I’m worried, you dumbass. What happened?"

"Just a little fight, ‘s nothing. Seriously, stop pouting, I’m fine."

"I’m not pouting."

Bahorel laughs gravely and a shudder runs down Feuilly’s back. He walks closer to him and examines the bruises with a frown. “You’re an idiot.”

Bahorel smirks, bending his head enough to place a tender kiss on Feuilly’s freckled nose. When the redhead doesn’t step back or complaints in any way, he tilts his head a little, trapping his lips in a soft kiss.

Feuilly kisses back, running his tongue over the cut on Bahorel lips, hearing him hiss but wrapping his waist with his strong arms. They break apart and Bahorel asks “Wanna wait for me while I take a shower? It’ll be just a minute.”

"Actually… I haven’t showered yet."

"Cool and unexpected. Shared shower then."

He pulls Feuilly inside the stall and opens the hot water, adjusting it in the right temperature. He positions Feuilly under the spray and starts massaging his shoulders. He bends over him, kissing the back of his neck and along the expanse of his shoulders; Feuilly sighs in contentment.

A strong hand caresses his side, the other tangled in his red hair and pulling back gently to allow him more space to kiss and nip at his pulse point. The hand on his side maps down onto his hips, really close to his hardness but not touching it yet. Feuilly can feel Bahorel’s own erection on the small of his back and whimpers softly when he rocks his hips forward.

"Uhm, what we’ve got here?" he says, his big hand circling the base of his manhood and stroking up and down painfully slow.

Feuilly grunts. “Stop teasing and do something.”

"Don’t wanna hurt you, dude."

"You won’t, just move."

Bahorel makes a sound of agreement and moves his hand faster along the shaft, bruising the skin of Feuilly’s shoulder with his teeth. He presses against him more firmly, almost pinning him on the wall, and rubs himself at the pace of his hand. They’re both panting now, Bahorel breathing hotly in the crock of his neck and moaning lewd compliments into Feuilly’s ear. He’s the first to come on Bahorel’s hand, shuddering when he feels the other man spilling on his back not much later.

"Do you think is too soon to ask you out?" Bahorel says, kissing his neck.

Feuilly barely has the energy to laugh at that.


End file.
